


One Day My Prince Will Come

by athaclena



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Disney Princess Captain America, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Super Soldiers have no refractory periods, Underwear Kink, Virgin Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 15:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10947387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athaclena/pseuds/athaclena
Summary: When Tony "I have too much money" Stark throws an Alternate Avengers themed costume party, Steve takes the opportunity to look fabulous for an evening and dresses up as Princess Captain America. One thing leads to another. And another. And another.Features dress-making, Sam Wilson being the best ever, various underwear kinks, various sexcapades, declarations of undying love without actually saying the words, some humour, minimal angst, and a lot of really nice mental images.





	1. A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chiyume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/gifts).



> Inspiration for this comes from a Tumble post about a little girl insisting that Captain America was a princess. It is also inspired by [this piece of wonderful art by Chiyume. ](http://chiyume.tumblr.com/image/156128768394) I didn't use quite the same colour scheme or poses in the fic, but it was definitely in my mind.

See, one of the things about growing up dirt-poor in the Thirties was that you learned how to do practically everything you could in order to save money. You stretched your food as far as you could, you sewed up your clothes and linens, you learned how to rewire things without electrocuting yourself, you could keep a radio working well past the point of common sense. You knew what things would last and what things would go to ruin too quickly to be worthwhile.

Tony had mocked him for it a few times, but Steve just ignored him; Stark was too rich to have ever learned the value of anything. In the field, it was real useful be able to patch stuff up quickly and efficiently, and the rest of the team had learned to value his skills, even Thor and the Big Guy – Thor had a terrible effect on electrical stuff round about him when he got careless with the lightning, and the Big Guy regularly ripped his pants when he was changing.

First time it had happened was the funniest for sure, Steve constantly fighting back laughter as he carefully stitched the back of Hulk's pants back together so he wasn't ass-naked (would it kill Bruce to wear some damn underwear?) in a combat zone. Since then, occasionally Hulk would sheepishly come up to him halfway through a long fight and Steve would pull out his tiny sewing kit and do the fastest repair he could.

Bruce swore he was working on a clothing solution, but Steve didn't believe him. It amused Nat like nothing on earth could to see Captain America stitching up Hulk's giant green ass, and anything that kept her smiling was A-okay in Bruce's book.

It was a publicity stunt that had given him the idea – the itch, really, it wouldn't leave him alone – some meet-and-greet with sick kids that he'd cheerfully given up a weekend for when he was asked. The Spider-kid was there, he wasn't able to say no either, and Bucky had tagged along in order to try to improve his image. Thor was there too, in civvies because it was a last minute thing, and Steve would never have expected it of him but he sat cross-legged on the floor having his hair braided by pre-teen girls like it was the most fun he'd had in years.

Buck was more nervous about the whole thing, and he cut an intimidating figure at first, hiding behind the curtain of his hair, but he loosened up when one of the little girls came skipping through the ward dressed up as Captain America. Only sparkly, and with a wand.

“I'm Princess Captain America!” she lisped, and Bucky laughed so hard he fell over and cried a little, while Steve preserved what dignity he could and let her play with the shield.

By the time Bucky had stopped literally hiccuping with laughter she was putting little sparkly clips in his hair, and he joined Thor in the circle of little girls (and a few boys), no longer scary now they'd heard him laugh. All and all, the meet-and-greet was so successful Pepper gave them all huge smiles and steak dinners.

It was later, lying in bed, that Steve's ever-busy mind cast back to how good it was to see Bucky laugh like that again. The last time had been during the War. Before, even; Bucky'd seen too much too quickly in Europe to really cut loose like that, not properly, not without a shadow of dark knowledge in his eyes.

And a small part of Steve was tired of being a soldier. He couldn't even turn it off properly in the privacy of his own apartment, mind always working on the latest problems, always trying to smooth over the team dynamic, make the little niggles and snags work better as a seamless whole – hard to do with so many enormous egos, but it was his job.

So he kind of wanted to be a princess, just for a day.

And, just maybe, his suppressed but never forgotten memory of being fourteen with Bucky and stealing a pair of laddered stockings from the trash played a part. The silky feel of putting them on, the sudden intensity on Bucky's face as Steve had stretched his leg out, trying to get the seam straight; he had never been able to erase the memory, as much as he'd tried.

The 21st century was a gentler age, in some ways. It had allowed him space to think about some things. Maybe it was time to act on some of those thoughts.

 

Sam woke up at 3am to quiet but persistent knocking on his apartment door. He shuffled through blearily, scowling as he saw Steve's stupid pleading face at his peep-hole.

“Last time you came round like this we broke three helicarriers and the Triskelion,” he hissed as he opened the door. “What is it this time?”

Steve had an armful of bags and a hopeful expression on his face. “I need a place to work on something for the party and I can't do it at mine, it's bugged,” he explained, like that was a normal thing. Probably was, for him. “Can I do it here? Please?”

Sam was far too tired for this shit. “Fine, whatever,” he replied. “Don't make any noise, I need more zees.”

“Thanks, Sam, I owe you,” Steve grinned, and started unpacking his bags – various swathes of fabric, some glittery stuff, a sewing machine, more glittery stuff, and was that a tiara?

“I am too tired to be curious right now but you better tell me what all this is tomorrow, got it?”

Steve just nodded, pulling out a measuring tape and a box that looked suspiciously like Sam's Grandma's sewing kit. “I'll even make breakfast, I swear.”

Jesus Christ, the things he did for friendship. “Great. Eggs scrambled, and I like my bacon crispy.”

“And your coffee disgustingly sweet and creamy, I know,” Steve smiled. “Go back to bed.”

Sam did just that, and woke up to the smell of eggs, bacon and fresh coffee a few hours later. He followed his nose until he was sitting at the table with a generous pile of food in front of him, served by a suspiciously cheerful Captain America.

“You sleep okay?” he asked, starting in on his own, larger, plate of food.

“Yeah, apart from the part where my lunatic best friend woke me up in the middle of the night and took over my living room,” Sam grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it: the eggs were too good. “Dude, you gotta tell me how to make these, they're amazing,” he said indistinctly.

“Little bit of cheese, and fried in butter,” Steve replied. “It's the fat. People hate fat, now, but it makes everything taste better.”

“Who needs working arteries anyway,” nodded Sam. The coffee was perfect as well. “You really know how to make a guy feel special,” he sighed blissfully.

Steve honest-to-God blushed at that. “Ain't nothing special,” he muttered. “Just payment for letting me use your place. I'll cook as long as I'm here, alright?”

“Sure,” Sam grinned. Seemed like reasonable payment to him.

It wasn't until he got back from the VA that evening that he realised what Steve was putting together, and only from the sketches that Steve had left lying around, covered in scribbled numbers and notes.

The human triangle in question was doing something unholy to meat-and-two-veg in the kitchen involving even more butter as well as herbs and wine, which smelled delicious, and Sam was loath to disturb him but... “Dude, are you making yourself a dress?”

Steve poked his head out of the doorway. “That a problem?”

“No, man, wear whatever you want, just... why?” Sam was busy trying to piece together how the finished outfit would look from the scattered material and drawings, so he only caught the tail end of the look of sheer relief that crossed his friend's face. Shit, he came from the Forties, right; the Good Ole Days weren't great for bucking societal norms, and those norms were pretty repressive back in the day.

“Well, you know Tony's throwing a fancy-dress party, and I thought...” Steve was being evasive. He was terrible at it.

“Okay, buddy, I'm gonna lay it out for you, okay? I do not care if this is how you get your rocks off. As long as it's consensual and legal I don't care at all, and I'm honestly not that bothered about the legal bit, some states still have crazy-ass laws. You wanna dress like Frank N Furter everyday, I am fine with that, got it? I got your back. You do you.”

Summer-blue eyes looked steadily at him. “Thanks, Sam. Means a lot. Same goes for me.”

“Yeah, man, I already knew that,” Sam said with a smile. “I ain't lacing you into a corset though.” Not after that time with the boys in Ramstein that they had sworn each other to secrecy on pain of death about. Besides, Steve's insides would probably break the boning.

“Don't worry, I can do my own laces,” Steve said mysteriously, disappearing back into the kitchen in a haze of delicious smells. “Chow time in five!”

Sure enough, when Steve talked him through the whole outfit later, pulling out fabric and half-sewn trial runs of bodices, a corset was, in fact, included. “To match the outfit. It doesn't have to be a proper one, though, it just needs the look of it.”

Against his better judgement Sam was getting interested in the whole thing. “You going to wear heels? Those things are crazy hard to walk in, man, they throw your whole balance off.”

Steve blinked a few times but otherwise kept his curiosity to himself. “Hadn't thought that far ahead. Maybe some little ones, you know? Not like I need the extra height.”

“Stilettos make your calves look amazing. Hurt like a bastard, no lie, but if you want legs that go on forever that's what you want,” Sam replied absently, looking through the skirt options Steve was working on. “I'd probably avoid the little strappy ones, you want something that looks more... princessy. Something classy.”

“Okay, high heels, in a court style. Got it. Can I get some stuff delivered here? It's, uh, it's pretty hard to avoid the cameras, outside.”

Sam agreed easily. He regretted it two days later when he had to sign for eight separate deliveries of various different sizes; six pairs of shoes, more make-up than Sam had ever seen outside of a counter in the mall, and some other stuff that Steve refused to show him, blushing as red as Sam had ever seen anyone blush and refusing to meet his eyes.

Enough was enough. “Steve, good buddy, good pal, you gotta make me a costume for this party too. I wanna look fabulous.”

 

Bucky had been dreading the party for the three weeks it had taken to organise. Not because of the “Alternate Avengers” theme, it was real easy to steal one of Steve's old costumes and get it to fit, but because of all of the people. There would be at least fifty. That was definitely about forty-five too many for him to feel safe.

He probably never would again, not fully. He'd had a long journey back from being the Winter Soldier, and some days he was still frozen, but he mostly didn't flinch from touch, he mostly didn't scream in the night, he mostly didn't nearly dislocate anyone's arms when they touched him.

Mostly. He was still a work in progress.

The apartment he stayed in was in Natalia's building, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend, after Steve. Sam tolerated him, and they worked well together, but Bucky couldn't trust that the man wouldn't cheerfully betray him if he was ordered to; Bucky had tried to kill him more than once, after all. Still, he enjoyed the bickering. It made him oddly happy.

He was looking forward to two things tonight: the costumes, and the Asgardian ale and mead Thor had promised to bring. They would be strong enough for him to get drunk on. He and Steve had already hidden one of the barrels for themselves, giggling as they did so. It was like the old days again, only... not.

Something strange was crawling inside Bucky every time he looked at Steve's pensive face, whenever he did that thing with his biceps, or when Steve called him Buck and murmured some private joke in his ear. And the time Steve had bent over straight at the waist to pick something up right in Bucky's eyeline had been, well, revealing, albeit only to himself. (Fortunately. Certain parts of him finally seemed to have woken up from their long sleep.)

It wasn't like this awareness was new exactly; he'd just forgotten, in all the rewrites, how attractive he'd found Steve. The new body – well, old body now – definitely helped, but if it had just been a physical beauty thing Bucky would've been panting after Thor, like most of the rest of the human race. But actually, he mainly found Thor tiring. Too loud, too cheerful, too alien.

But he'd been Steve's for far longer than he'd ever known back in the day, until he'd finally put it together as he slowly rebuilt his shattered mind. Funny how some things you just didn't see, until they were right in front of you.

Case in point right now: it took him five minutes of sitting opposite them in the car to realise that Clint and Natalia – Natasha, she preferred Natasha – had swapped aesthetic for the evening. Hawkeye didn't normally have that much ass on display, for sure, and Black Widow was rarely ever in so much armour.

“Nice thighs,” he said to Clint. “No tit-window, though?”

Natasha laughed so hard her champagne went up her nose. “I thought it would be a little much,” Clint said primly. “You make a great Cap, where did you get the suit?”

“Stole it off Steve,” Bucky shrugged. “The shield's a replica.”

Natasha finished coughing. “Looks like we're not the only ones who went political tonight, at least.”

In fact, half the room seemed to be making a statement of some sort, once they arrived. Bruce had painted himself green and was wandering around saying “Hulk smash!” and laughing darkly to himself; Pepper was wearing the Mark 47, painted a slightly more restrained colour-scheme, and enjoying towering over Tony, who was in a grubby mechanic's outfit. Thor, wildly confused about the whole thing but always game for a laugh, had found a spandex Spiderman suit that was basically obscene when stretched over his muscles.

Wanda was wearing a classic Halloween witch costume, and like Bruce was taking dark amusement at the whole thing. She spun her uncanny powers out behind her, every so often, just for the visual effect, and it was both troubling and entertaining to watch. Vision, meanwhile, looked like a butler. With a purple face. Bucky didn't get it, but presumed it was a reference to something, seeing as Tony laughed like a drain when he saw it.

Bucky couldn't see Steve anywhere at first. He himself wasn't the only Captain America, although he was definitely the best, but there was no sign of Steve in or out of costume. Finally he caught sight of Sam, who was dressed as an actual falcon, and he wandered over with a couple of ales.

“I like your costume,” he said, offering Sam one of the flagons. It was well-made, showing off Sam's lean but powerful physique, and the capelet doubling as wings was weighted enough that it moved smoothly when Sam did. Gold stitching outlined the shape of feathers in places on the costume, and Sam was wearing gold make-up that somehow managed to be subtle, highlighting the height of his cheekbones and the shape of his lips.

“Thanks, man. Lovingly hand-made, just for me.” He took a gulp of the ale. “Oof! Okay, no more than one of these if I wanna be standing at the end of the night.”

“The mead's even stronger,” Bucky advised. “Have you seen Steve anywhere? We stashed a barrel so we could get a little buzzed but I don't want to start without him.”

Sam grinned. “He wanted to make an entrance. You know how he gets.” He pointed at the stairs, where a tall and beautiful figure was sweeping their way down, looking every inch like a Disney Princess, but in Captain America colours, blue bodice and skirt with a red-and-white corset. The tiara glittered under the light; little silver stars sprayed across one high cheekbone, and the clutch-purse was, of course, shaped like the shield.

The skirt of the dress had sheer panels, showing legs that just kept going, and Steve was making walking in stilettos look easy. He hadn't bothered to pad his chest, opting instead just to show his pecs in place of cleavage, and it was a surprisingly effective move. His hair was his own as well, although it looked less rigid than it usually did and bore tiny sparkling things in red, white and blue.

Caught half-way between laughter and lust, Bucky didn't realise his jaw had dropped until Sam cleared his throat. “Close your mouth, you're gonna drool,” he hissed, and then laughed out loud as heat rose in Bucky's face. “Oh my God, you blush worse than he does!” He snapped a picture with a cellphone Bucky hadn't even noticed him taking out. “I am emailing this to everyone, just so you know.”

“I hate you,” Bucky growled. Sam just laughed harder, slapping him on the back companionably. Maybe – and this felt like a breakthrough his therapists would be proud of him for – maybe Sam actually did like him.

Steve made his way through the crowd of people exclaiming over his costume towards Bucky and Sam. “Gotta say, Buck, you look good in my clothes,” he said with a smile, looming over them both in his heels.

Bucky handed him the other flagon. “You, uh, you scrub up pretty nice too, Stevie,” he managed.

“You think so? I made it myself,” Steve replied proudly, preening a little.

“Yeah, and filled my place with all of your crap,” snorted Sam, but it was fond and teasing rather than angry and mocking. “And I had to teach his skinny ass how to walk in those things, too,” he continued, gesturing at the shoes. “He looked like Bambi on ice for a while, it was hysterical. I'll email you the video.” He winked at Bucky; Steve spluttered excuses but didn't deny it.

Swept up in Steve's wake, Bucky found himself moving around the party and talking with people. Or at least listening to people talk. The comments towards Steve ranged from positive to shocked to titillated, depending on the person. Bucky garnered a few compliments and a worryingly shrewd look from Nick Fury, who put in a very brief appearance, but mainly people were looking at Princess America, as Steve dubbed himself.

Bucky made frequent runs to their secret ale stash, which made the night go much more smoothly from his point of view, and by the time the party started to wind down he was as buzzed as he wanted to get. Too much more, and he might start losing control of his tongue.

Thor had partaken mightily of his own contribution, and was looking at Steve with what Bucky believed were commonly referred to as “heart-eyes”. “Steve Rogers, you make a very attractive woman! I might attempt to seduce you were I not happily bound to my beloved Jane.”

His beloved Jane, dressed as a female version of Thor, tipped her head thoughtfully. “We could share him,” she mused.

“You ride one end and I the other! Or, oh, even better, one of us in the middle!” Thor looked delighted to have worked this out. “What say you, Friend Steve? Have we tempted you?”

Steve was scarlet under his powder. “I'm definitely flattered,” he choked out, “but I'm going to have to decline.”

“Pity,” mused Thor. “Another time, perhaps.”

Tony did something with his face that might have been a leer if he were sober. “Didn't realise you swung both ways, Thor.” He had put in an admirable showing at the ale barrel.

“My people have moved beyond such petty concerns as gender,” Thor huffed. “We care only for the mind and soul.” Jane rolled her eyes fondly, and murmured something in his ear. “And the buttocks, yes. We also like buttocks.”

“So you think Cap's got a better ass than me? I'm hurt,” Tony said, and it didn't take a genius to see where the conversation was going to go from there.

Sure enough, Nat stepped in with a detailed analysis of all of the Avenger asses that had Bucky looking for weapons or escape routes and Steve remaining as red as his corset. They exchanged a terrified glance and made their escape.

“On that note, us old timers are gonna leave you to it,” Steve said. “Night guys. Make good choices.” A series of friendly jeers saw them into the elevator safely.

Steve made them pause in the deserted lobby so he could pull a pair of tattered sneakers from his purse, slipping his heels off. “God that feels better,” he sighed. “They're not really made for walkin', you know?”

“Sounds familiar,” Bucky allowed, although he couldn't place the memory. Steve was careful placing his stockinged feet into the sneakers, and Bucky caught a glimpse of a Cuban heel and the start of a long seam; his memory glitched out at the sight and he sank to the floor, head in both hands, trying to ride the wave.

Silk stockings on dancers, cheap nylons on Brooklyn broads, suspender belts and garters under his hands, grainy photos in skin-rags, sweetheart pictures passed around from bunk to bunk like precious art; London girls willing to do almost anything for a pair, painting lines on their legs with gravy to keep the look; sitting in the Stalls watching a chorus line kick their legs up, the rest of the Howlies staring up at them like they were seeing God. Stockings thrown artlessly over pillows, stockings laddered to ruins and discarded, stockings used as makeshift bindings and gags, stockings used to strangle one of Hydra's many victims at his hands.

Steve, small and skinny, wearing thin shorts and a vest, pulling on a pair of ruined stockings and giggling with him, until suddenly something changed and he was on the cusp of some dangerous realisation.

Steve, who was saying something now, staring urgently into Bucky's eyes and running soothing hands up and down Bucky's arms. “Come back to me, Buck, focus on my voice buddy.”

It was his lips that Bucky was focusing on, not his voice, but it did the trick. He swallowed drily and blinked the last fleeting images and sensations away. “I'm here,” he rasped. “Sorry.” His head swam a little as his mind slotted the recovered memories back into his internal sense of his own timeline; it was always disorienting, but he was an old hand at these by now, and this one had mostly been happy memories of pre-Hydra life.

“You got nothing to apologise for,” Steve said softly. He was kneeling in front of Bucky, discarded sparkling shoes beside him, compassion and concern in his face. Perfect time to take him by surprise, whispered the Soldier's voice, but Bucky told the Soldier to fuck off and he went without a fight.

Although there was another voice that agreed with the Soldier, for very different reasons. Perfect placement for a kiss; that voice was harder to ignore. Bucky pushed it aside to focus on the present, cold floor under his feet, warm hand on his right arm, pressure sensors registering a hand on the left. “How long?”

“Couple minutes, maybe. Not long.” Steve pulled a flask out of his purse and handed it over. “Thor gave me some mead. Have some, you need the sugar.”

Bucky's right hand was trembling slightly when he took a mouthful, so he supposed Steve was right. “Thanks, Stevie.” His face was still too numb to really taste the drink, but it made him feel better almost instantly.

Steve smiled gently at him and helped him to his feet, packing his heels and the flask back into his (surprisingly capacious) purse. “You want to take a cab home or are you good to walk?”

It was a nice night, and Bucky was always restless after a surge of memories like that. “Let's walk, huh? Just like old times.”

The look Steve gave him was wistful and fond. “Sure thing, Buck.”

The city was never really quiet, even at night, and Bucky soaked up the early summer heat and the cheerful noise with pleasure. There weren't enough people around for him to be on edge, and drunks were usually easy to predict. Some part of him, he knew, was watching all of them for any sign that they might be feigning intoxication so as to mask their attacks; he'd made his peace with that part, by now. It kept him safe.

Steve's outfit drew a few wolf-whistles but nothing particularly aggressive, although he seemed not to notice until a passing group of people looked him up and down and complimented him wildly. He blushed and thanked them, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. He fielded a few questions about the dress itself, which Bucky listened to with interest.

“Why did you end up at Sam's place?” he asked curiously after the group had moved on. “You already agree to make his costume, or something?” He wasn't jealous. Well, that was a lie, he was, but Steve and Sam were close, and he'd be even more of an asshole than he already was if he tried to make a big deal out of it.

“Uh, no, that came after. I think he got jealous of all of the glitter,” Steve winked. “I didn't want to do it at mine because it's bugged up to the nines.”

Bucky was so shocked by this that he stopped walking. “What?”

“Well, yeah. Your place isn't?”

He stared at Steve some more in mounting horror. “No! It was, sure, but I destroyed them all, and I sweep for them regularly when I do the cleaning. Why don't you just get rid of them?”

Steve shrugged, looking faintly embarrassed. “I got a few of them, but honestly, I'm not really sure what to look for these days. I'd ask Nat, but she'd never stop laughing at me about it.” He pulled a rueful face. “Not that I wouldn't deserve it. But Sam told me once that he tests the wings against EMP stuff at home sometimes, so I figure his place is safe.” Some look of hurt must have crossed Bucky's face, because Steve added hurriedly, “I wanted to surprise you with the outfit, or I would've come to you, Buck. But you laughed so hard at the little girl a couple weeks back, I just wanted to – to make you laugh again.”

He'd done the whole thing just to make Bucky happy? “That's – thanks, Stevie. Really.” He cleared his throat of the sudden tightness in it. “She was pretty adorable, right?” He decided not to tell Steve that the laughter had been more because she reminded him so much of Steve as a kid, all fire and determination in a pint-size frame, and once he started laughing he just couldn't stop, flooded with memories of their youth. “Seriously, though, I'm going to fix this bug thing.”

“What? I mean, thanks, but right now?”

Bucky gave him a disbelieving look. “You think I'm going to let you go back there to be spied on again? No-one does that to my best friend and gets away with it,” he said darkly.

He refused to hear Steve's protestations that he was fine with it – honestly, the man had no sense of self-preservation at all – and set a fast pace back to Steve's apartment. He knew that the outside of the building was clear because he'd made sure of it himself when he'd arrived back in the country, and he still kept a regular eye on it, out of professional pride as well as personal concern.

He pointed out three bugs in the lobby and stairwell silently to Steve as they climbed to his apartment, and a quick search of the hallway revealed a further two – one audio, one video – that he destroyed with a crunch of his metal fist. Prowling around Steve's apartment with a scowl, he was pleased to find out that S.H.I.E.L.D. respected Steve's privacy enough to have only the bare minimum of their surveillance arsenal in place.

Someone with access to Stark's toys had put in a more extensive range, however, and there were a few older-model ones Bucky recognised from Hydra. He collected them all into a little pile on the coffee table to show Steve before making sure they were nothing but dust.

“Well, shit,” Steve swore. “That's a lot.” He poured them both a generous glass of the mead and sat down on the other end of the couch from Bucky.

Bucky nodded grimly. “We need to speak to Fury tomorrow. His people missed some of the Hydra ones, and I have no idea who the other ones belong to.”

Steve looked suspiciously and helplessly around at his living space. “How do I trust this place now?”

“Trust me to make sure it stays clean,” Bucky offered. “That help?”

Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah, it really does. Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky covered his blush with a long drink of the mead, which might have been a tactical error; this wasn't the same stuff as from the party earlier, it was much stronger and somehow cleaner, and it hit him like neat vodka had back pre-serum. He relaxed deeper into the couch with a satisfied groan.

Steve made a small choked sound beside him. “You okay there Stevie? It's pretty strong stuff.”

“Yeah, it just, uh, got caught in my throat a little.” His ears were flushed. “So! Did you enjoy the party?”

“You know, I did,” Bucky smiled. “Thanks for sticking with me, it helped a lot.”

“'Til the end of the line, right?” Steve's eyes were brilliant in the lamplight. “What did you, uh, what did you think of the costume?”

“You look incredible,” he replied honestly. “Classiest dame there, for sure.”

Steve blushed into his glass. “Wasn't really trying to be a dame,” he said shyly. “I just... really wanted not to be a soldier for a little while.” He looked a little sad, melancholy almost. “Guess I should take it off now. It's not real comfortable to lounge in.”

Bucky knew a lot about not wanting to be a soldier, and he hated seeing Steve unhappy. “Wait, uh, I got an idea.” He sprang up and pulled a record out of Steve's collection, some show tunes that made the dance halls, placing it on the turntable and switching it on. “You never had a dance. Dress like that, it deserves a spin or two.”

He held out his hand, channelling all of his long-ago charm, and smiled. Maybe it was the song; more likely it was the mead, but either way, Steve hesitantly took his hand, searching his face for a joke he didn't find.

The thing about growing up in the Thirties was that you learned how to dance, and you did it well, because you needed to make an impression on your partners. And Bucky had been very successful at it. He had good rhythm, and he could lead well, and he knew all the moves. His partner now might be slightly taller than him, slightly broader in the shoulders and narrower in the hips, but it didn't change anything that mattered.

The first song, some jazz number from a film Bucky couldn't remember, ended with a flourish that he used as an opportunity to twirl Steve with a laugh. The next one started. The Way You Look Tonight, and they stood frozen for a second, still as ice.

Well, Bucky hated the cold, and his blood was warmed by mead and the pleasure of Steve's company, the secret thought that Steve was wearing those dangerous stockings all for him. He pulled Steve closer in and settled into a slower dance, an end-of-the-night, please-may-I-kiss-you dance.

Steve was a little tense in his arms, a little nervy, but the slight tremble in his hands didn't seem to be from the bad kind of fear. Bucky had felt it from dancing partners before; had felt it himself a time or two, the exquisite fear that came with hope and desire. He was sure feeling it now, pinned between the terror of rejection and the absolute sense of rightness that came from holding Steve so close.

“You know, dress like this, there's another thing I'd kind of expect in it,” Steve said softly.

“Oh?” Steve was so close that Bucky could feel his breath, smell the sweetness on it. He flattened his palm against the small of Steve's back.

“Seems like a dance like this, in a dress like this, with a man as handsome as you – always ends with a kiss.” Steve's voice was admirably steady but his pulse was jumping under Bucky's metal hand.

“Well then,” he breathed, “I'd hate to disappoint.” Close as they were, it still seemed to take an age to move in towards each other, and when their lips finally met it was as soft and gentle a kiss as Bucky had ever had. Just a delicate press of lips together at first, brief and nervous and chaste; the next kiss deepened, Bucky's lips parting almost outwith his control.

The one after that – Bucky was glad he hadn't been kissed since 1945, because this one was worth the wait. Steve kissed different from a dame but his mouth was everything that Bucky wanted in a partner, the perfect combination of soft lips and strong tongue. He tasted of mead, with a faint hint of beer and lipstick. He tasted of sunshine and summer and freedom.

The air between them grew hot as they breathed in each other's breath, and eventually Bucky had to pull back, panting. Steve's eyes were wide and dark, his lips swollen and red, and he was perfect, and Bucky never wanted to leave him again.


	2. One Day My Prince Will Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is this chapter titled the same thing as the fic? Because I was always going to use it for this chapter, and when I went to publish it I realised that I hadn't thought of a good title for the whole thing and Princess Captain America didn't seem to convey what I wanted, to wit, something about sex and Disney.
> 
> Herewith, the porn.

This – Steve had never imagined he could have this, or feel like this, and it was almost overwhelming. Bucky's clear grey eyes pierced him to the core even as his hands held Steve so gently, so tenderly that it was both too much and nowhere near enough. He reached up with one trembling hand and stroked the errant hairs away from Bucky's face, and once he started touching he couldn't find it in him to stop.

Bucky's eyes flickered shut as Steve slowly mapped over his cheekbones and jaw, and his breath hitched when Steve leaned in to kiss where his fingers had been. Kissing Bucky's neck just above the collar of his uniform – Steve's own uniform, worn by Steve himself, and wasn't that a thought – inspired a sigh that was almost a moan from Bucky, and he pulled Steve in tighter.

Steve trailed his hands to the clasps of the uniform. “Is this okay?” he breathed. “Can I keep going?”

“God, yes,” Bucky replied hoarsely, capturing Steve's lips in another searing kiss, and this time it was Steve who moaned even while his fingers were fumbling with the clasps, the strength of his desire surprising himself.

Steve normally wore a light t-shirt underneath the suit jacket, to wick away sweat and prevent chafing, but Bucky had evidently decided that it wasn't required given that no exertion was expected. The broad shoulders and thick muscles on display made Steve lick his lips, and he started exploring them with his hands.

He searched Bucky's face for any sign of discomfort when he got to the scars around the metal arm, but Bucky just shivered in pleasure and leaned in to the touch. Steve kissed his way down Bucky's neck, soft and warm beneath his lips, and pressed careful kisses over the scarring. Moving inwards, he found the pebbled nub of Bucky's nipple, and it turned out they were pretty sensitive because Bucky made the most amazing little whimpers and gasps when Steve explored it with his tongue and teeth, nipping ever-so-slightly.

Abruptly Bucky growled and pulled Steve up from his awkward crouch, kissing him fiercely. “We either have to stop right now or find your bed, Stevie, we are both too damn old to fuck on the floor,” and wow, the need in his voice sent a surge of lust through Steve's groin, swelling his cock and making his knees weak.

“Bedroom,” he gasped. “Please, Buck, I want more. If – if that's okay, I mean, I don't wanna make you do anything you're not happy with.”

Bucky took his hand and pressed it onto a rock-hard erection. “I'm definitely okay with this, but I promise to let you know if I'm not. Now can we please at least find a wall to lean on?” Steve grinned and stroked Bucky gently through his trousers, and his head fell back as he gave a long groan. “Christ, Stevie, that's just unfair.” He started walking Steve backwards through the apartment, pausing occasionally for more scorching kisses as they began to grind together.

Steve had never experienced anything like this before, and it was almost overwhelming. Bucky manoeuvred them into the bedroom and fumbled the door closed; Steve seized the opportunity to take control again, pushing Bucky back against the door and resuming his investigation. His trousers were tight on Bucky, the fastening straining over his erection, and it took both hands to work them open.

Turned out Bucky either wasn't one for underwear or he'd been going deliberately commando just so he could mark the inside of Steve's costume with his scent, and gosh, Steve did not know which thought he liked best at this point. Bucky moaned as his penis sprang free; it was long and thick and hard, hot against Steve's hand, and the foreskin had peeled back enough to reveal a head that was glistening with fluid.

Steve's own cock hardened further – how was that even possible? - at the sight, and he regretted his underwear choices for the umpteenth time that night as he strained against the lace. He palmed himself into a more comfortable location as he began stroking Bucky, hesitantly at first but with more confidence as Bucky made his appreciation obvious by thrusting slightly into Steve's hand.

“Oh, God,” Bucky moaned. “Oh – mm, that feels so good, Stevie, please don't stop.” Steve started carefully sliding the the trousers down with his right hand as his left hand kept up the rhythm and pressure on Bucky's erection. Once he worked the fabric down far enough for Bucky's ass to be free, he started running his hand over it; he couldn't seem to stop touching. Bucky was practically a work of art.

He angled his grip to catch the little knot of skin on the underside of Bucky's dick with every pass, and was rewarded with a louder moan and a frantic and sloppy kiss. Bucky was panting now, and his grip on Steve's left arm was tight even though he made no move to change the pace or angle. Steve reached up with his free hand to pinch a nipple, and then down to stroke Bucky's balls, pulling lightly on them the way he liked to do with his own; Bucky cried out and thrust harder into Steve's fist.

“A-ah! Please, Stevie please, I'm gonna – I don't wanna ruin your dress – oh, oh, mmm, God...” Bucky looked desperate now; chasing the edge of his orgasm or holding it back, Steve wasn't sure which, but he was pretty sure he could do something about the mess issue at least. He'd seen it in dirty comics a time or two, and he'd overheard the girls talking backstage.

He licked his lips again and dropped to his knees, looking up at Bucky as he stared at Steve, shocked. “Come for me, Buck,” he murmured, and he sucked the tip of Bucky's cock into his mouth, still working his hand fast and hard over the rest of the shaft.

Bucky whimpered as Steve licked away the bead of moisture pooling in the small hole, before his eyes rolled back and he groaned loud and long. Warm liquid burst into Steve's mouth as Bucky came, bitter and thick; Steve swallowed convulsively, and Bucky groaned again as more spilled out of him. His hips gave tiny thrusts forward and his hand spasmed around Steve's arm; Steve kept sucking and stroking until Bucky was laughing and pulling him upright, seeking his mouth out for a bruising kiss.

“That was the hottest thing that has ever happened to me,” Bucky sighed. He looked relaxed and dreamy, hair falling into his face again, eyes soft and full of some emotion Steve was hesitant to identify.

“It was really okay? That was my first – I mean, I've never done that to anyone who wasn't me, before” Steve said shyly.

“It was so good I'm kinda surprised I'm still standing,” Bucky smiled. He kissed Steve again, tender and sweet. “Now,” he breathed as he pulled back a little,“I noticed you're a lot more dressed than I am. Help me fix that?”

Steve bit his lower lip and guided Bucky's hands to the tiny hooks on the front of the corset. He popped them open one by one, tossing it aside when he was finished; Steve noted absently that he'd managed to toe off his boots and step out of the trousers at the same time, leaving him entirely, breathtakingly naked.

Next was the bodice, which had Bucky squinting in confusion at the zip ending part-way up Steve's side. Steve rolled his eyes and pulled it over his head. Bucky huffed out a laugh at the star-shaped pasties Steve was wearing. “Couldn't resist,” Steve said with a smirk. He'd been particularly amused at the pasties.

Bucky looked torn. “I kinda wanna leave them on, but...” He peeled them off carefully and pushed Steve backwards gently until his legs hit the bed. “Aren't you a lovely sight,” he said softly. Then he pushed Steve over and grinned widely. “Much better.”

Already, Bucky's cock was thickening again, getting plumper and pinker. Steve made a reach for it as Bucky knelt down over him but his hand was pinned at his side immediately. “No, Stevie, this one's all about you.” Bucky's mouth ghosted over his, almost kissing him but not quite, before he moved down to Steve's nipple. He flicked his tongue over the tip of it; something like lightning lanced through Steve and collected in his groin, making him groan and squirm as his erection, once again, pressed painfully into his underwear.

“Please, Buck, I gotta get this off,” he begged, plucking at his skirt helplessly. Bucky didn't move his mouth, opting instead to nibble gently with his teeth, but he did slide his right hand under Steve until he found the button and zipper. His left hand, meanwhile, was playing with Steve's left nipple, and everything felt wonderful and terrible at the same time; he was on the knife-edge of pleasure and over-stimulation, and he couldn't suppress the gasps and moans he was making.

Bucky tried to pull the skirt down while continuing his ministrations, but it proved too difficult and he eventually pulled back. “God, you're beautiful,” he sighed, before lifting Steve's hips slightly and pulling the skirt down. The deep blue suspender belt was vivid against his skin, but it was the white lace panties that had Bucky's eyes widening and his cock hardening visibly, getting longer and thicker and standing upright. “Jesus Christ Steve,” he said hoarsely. “You've been – all night?”

“Stop blaspheming,” Steve said, aiming for prim and pious but the roughness and desire in his voice showing the lie. “And yes.” His erection poked out of the top of the panties, obscenely flushed against the virginal white, and the lace strained around the rest of him.

“I'm – this is – holy shit, Stevie,” Bucky choked out. “You gotta take them off, if I do it I'll just rip them.”

Steve looked up at him. They were both breathing heavily now, and Bucky's pupils were so dilated with raw lust that his eyes were almost black. “Do it. I got more.”

Bucky made a little broken groan and tore the panties right off him, fabric ripping easily in his hands, before he licked his lips and looked Steve in the eye. “Never done this before, so don't judge me too harshly,” he warned.

Pinned beneath his gaze, Steve shook his head helplessly. “Got no frame of reference, Bucky, and I'd never judge you harshly anyway.”

Bucky's hands stilled on Steve's thighs where they'd been inching closer – finally! – to his cock. “Never? Oh, Stevie,” he said softly. He bent down and kissed Steve, deep and tender. “I'll make it good for you. I promise.”

He kissed his way back down Steve's body, settling in between his thighs, and it took all of Steve's self-control to keep his hips from thrusting into nothing when Bucky pressed a kiss onto the head of his cock. He was as hard as he had ever been before in his life, so hard he could barely think; Steve wound his fists into the bedsheets and held on for dear life. Bucky licked his cock and blew cool air on it, and it twitched upwards; a bead of pre-come oozed out and Steve whimpered. “Don't make me beg, Buck,” he said desperately. “Ain't like I'm gonna last long.” He was too close to orgasm already; had been hard for too long, twitching inside the unforgiving ruined panties.

Bucky looked up at him. “Won't make you beg this time,” he said. “No promises about next time.” The smirk on his face was as seductive and dangerous as it had ever been, a threat and a promise all at once, and he fixed his mouth over the head of Steve's cock and started sucking, head moving slowly at first but faster and more confidently as he found his rhythm.

His mouth was hot and wet and tight and perfect, and Steve cried out in shock over how good it felt. His right hand found its way to rest on Bucky's head, stroking his hair in amazement; his left hand found Bucky's right hand and gripped on for dear life as he started falling apart, his balls already starting to tighten. Bucky looked up at him and winked before sucking harder and flicking his tongue in the same way Steve had earlier to such effect.

Steve was groaning on every out-breath now, moaning Bucky's name as the pleasure and pressure ramped up inside him. Bucky shifted position slightly and brought up his left hand to grip the shaft of Steve's cock. The metal was shockingly cool against his fevered skin, and as it started to move in time with Bucky's mouth Steve knew that he wouldn't be able to hold back even if he wanted to.

He heaved in a last gulp of air, his back arching as his body thundered towards release, and when he came it was with an intensity he had rarely ever felt before. His cock pulsed in Bucky's mouth, again and again, and Bucky milked him of every last drop, only pulling back when Steve started to whimper helplessly.

As Bucky crawled his way back up Steve's body with a smug grin on his face, all Steve could do was watch and moan out his appreciation. His face didn't seem to be working any more. Neither did anything else; he felt gloriously, decadently relaxed, and he could barely respond when Bucky kissed him. The bitter taste of his release mixed gloriously with the lingering sweetness of the mead and the underlying taste of Bucky, addictive and heady on his tongue.

“You okay there Steve? Was that good?” Bucky was smiling, Steve could hear it in his voice, but his eyes kept drifting shut.

“'Swonnerful”, he slurred in response, and Bucky chuckled. His weight disappeared from the bed briefly as Steve lay boneless; by the time he had worked out that that meant Bucky was gone, he had returned. Something cool and moist swept carefully over his eyes and cheeks. Make-up remover, he thought; Bucky was cleaning his face of whatever eyeshadow and glitter remained on him before it smeared onto the pillows in the night.

Steve smiled and stretched languorously, finally able to focus and think again. “That was amazing, Bucky. Thank you.” He pulled Bucky on top of him and kissed him deep and slow, running his hands over Bucky's back and revelling in the feel of the firm muscles and soft skin.

“Any time,” Bucky murmured back. “I mean – assuming you want to do this again. It's okay if this is a, a one-time thing.”

The lie was writ large on his face. “What part of my personality makes you think I want to lose my virginity to a one-night stand, exactly?” Steve scoffed. “Of course I want more of this, Buck. I want as much as you'll give me. For as long as you'll have me.”

Bucky's still-swollen lips parted and a look of wonder crossed his face, his eyes luminous. “You really mean that, huh? Could be a damn long time. We don't know how long this serum will keep us going for.”

“You gonna make me say it again, huh? Until the end of the line, Buck. Always.”

“Some folks ain't gonna like this,” Bucky cautioned, biting his lip now, and Steve was compelled to kiss him again, sucking the bitten lip into his mouth and soothing it with his own, until the shadow of the Winter Soldier retreated from Bucky's eyes.

He pulled back just enough to get some fresh air, letting Bucky's forehead rest on his own. “Anyone who has a problem can go fuck themselves. I give them everything else I have. They ain't taking you from me too. You are the only thing I want in this life.”

Bucky released a shuddering breath. “Shit, Stevie, the things you say sometimes,” he whispered, and his lips were tender on Steve's own.

How long they kissed for Steve didn't know or care; all he cared about was Bucky, and he was wrapped tight in Steve's arms, so there was nothing else to worry about. Gradually, the kiss – or kisses, Steve wasn't keeping track – grew more intense again, and as they both grew hard they began sliding together slowly.

“You really never did this before, Steve? Seems such a waste of a beautiful body,” Bucky mused. “I always thought you were just playing it coy.”

“No-one ever wanted me,” Steve replied simply. The feel of Bucky's cock against his own was delicious. “No-one at all, before, and then after they all just wanted the Captain.”

“So you've never been inside anyone?” Bucky looked thoughtful and dangerous, and he began grinding his hips down with more purpose.

“No-ohhh,” Steve groaned. “'Cept your mouth that one time.”

“I don't like that you can keep track,” Bucky said, and his voice raised the hairs on the back of Steve's neck and made his erection try to jump, trapped between their bodies. “I'm going to have to do something about that.” He sat up in one fluid movement, and Steve pouted at the loss of his weight even while he watched their dicks jerk into their preferred position in fascination. The hair curling around the base of Bucky's was as dark as that on his head, a lovely contrast in relation to Steve's own blonder thatch of hair; his penis was slightly shorter than Steve's, slightly thicker, and it flushed a darker colour in comparison.

It took an effort to look Bucky in the eyes again, and he found him smirking at Steve's obvious staring. “Get a little distracted, Cap? Better find you something to do so you can keep your attention on me.” Bucky jumped up off the bed and began prowling around the room, opening drawers. “Huh. You probably don't have any, good Catholic boy like you, but – I'll be right back. Do not move.” His voice dropped to a commanding growl that hit Steve right in the balls, based on the surge of heat to his groin.

Well, that was a new thing to learn about himself. This had been a night full of surprises, and Steve didn't doubt it would continue further. He definitely didn't want it to end.

Bucky came back in with a look of triumph, a towel, and a bottle of olive oil. He was so beautiful that he took Steve's breath away, literally; it caught in his throat as he looked at his best friend, naked and happy and turned on, and if the look in Bucky's eyes was tempered by pain and terrible knowledge, it was no less compelling because of it. More, in fact. Bucky being willing to share his darkness with Steve was a privilege, even if sometimes it broke Steve's heart.

Bucky strutted purposefully over to the bed and ceremonially laid out the towel on the bed. “You know how this is supposed to go, sweetheart?” he drawled. “Or did you never think to use the internet for porn?”

Steve could feel the heat rising to his face. “I – I never really liked any of that... stuff,” he stammered. “There's nothing – I mean there's nothing wrong with it, it just – it made me too – I don't like looking at people like that,” he finished lamely.

The swagger drained out of Bucky, replaced by something gentler. “Hey, that's okay,” he said, crawling up the bed to box Steve in with his arms again. His left hand cooled Steve's cheeks and tipped his chin up for a kiss. “Just means I get to show you how it's done. Which is all kinds of hot,” he added, apparently slightly surprised by the thought. His dick left a smear of liquid on Steve's thigh as he shifted position, and Steve collected it on one finger and licked it off just to watch Bucky's pupils dilate and hear him shudder a faint groan.

The (quite expensive, actually) olive oil was opened up and Bucky drizzled it over his left hand. “Watch.” He knelt over Steve and moved his hand behind himself, sliding one metal finger up between his legs until – oh. _Oh._ Steve watched breathlessly as Bucky gave a small sigh of satisfaction as his hand began moving, in and out and round. “You gotta get good and loose or it hurts.” He pushed another finger in with another small sigh.

Steve's hands were on Bucky's hips now, helping to brace him, and he could feel how Bucky was starting to thrust back onto his fingers. His cock and balls were hanging beneath him, begging to be touched. The bottle of oil was lying on the towel right next to Steve; it was the work of a moment to spill some on his hands.

He had to shuffle down he bed a little to get the right position, but Bucky hardly noticed, eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure. He gasped when Steve took his erection in one oiled-up hand; the sound was sweet, but not half as good as the moan he made when Steve eased one finger of his free hand in beside Bucky's own two and started moving it.

After a couple of false starts, Steve managed to find a rhythm that worked. Bucky ground back against their fingers when they thrust in, then forward into Steve's fist, dick rock hard in his grasp. His own erection was neglected save for the occasional glancing touch from one hand or another, but Steve didn't particularly mind. This was all about Bucky.

“Oh, Stevie, right there,” Bucky groaned. His hips were moving harder now, and his eyes were fever-bright. Steve just grinned and kept working his hands, watching Bucky fall apart. “Wait, stop,” he gasped, and Steve complied instantly, worried he'd hurt Bucky somehow.

“What? Is everything okay? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry,” he started.

“Hurt me? Jesus, no, I was gettin' a little too close, and I wanna... damn, where'd it go...” Bucky rooted around on the bed with a look of frustration on his face. His cock shone in the lamplight from the oil, and his chest and cheeks were flushed. “Ah ha!” A warm hand slid up and down Steve's aching erection, coating it with more oil, and then Bucky was biting his lip and moving back until he was pressing against Steve, open and ready for him.

Bucky looked steadily at him, poised in place. “You want this, Stevie? I mean, I sure as shit do, but if you're still savin' yourself for marriage we can do something else.”

“No! I want you, Buck, any way you'll have me,” Steve gasped. “Church ain't right about everything, didn't you always tell me that?”

Bucky smiled, and kissed him, and reached behind himself one last time to guide Steve in. Tight heat enveloped his cock, and his world narrowed down to a single point of focus for a brief, blinding moment. They both groaned in unison. “That is... every bit as good as I imagined it,” Bucky sighed. “God, Stevie, you're perfect.”

Steve's hands were tight around Bucky's hips again. “You imagined this?” Bucky started moving, and Steve moaned at the feel of it; this was better than anything he had imagined, himself. Much better than the feel of his own left hand, or waking up humping into a pillow with Bucky's name on his lips.

“Imagined this plenty of times. I got a lot of ideas for times three through infinity.”

Bucky had found his rhythm, and Steve began to match it, thrusting a little deeper, a little harder. “I might have a few ideas of my own, you know,” he replied with a raised eyebrow, and Bucky bit his lip, eyes alight with happiness.

Remembering he could do two things at once, Steve resumed stroking Bucky's dick, slick with oil and the clear fluid oozing from the tip. Bucky moaned, and started moving faster. The feel of him tight around Steve's cock was quickly becoming overwhelming; Steve desperately wanted to chase his orgasm, his body was beginning to beg for it now, but his pride made him want to hold back at least until Bucky came. It seemed the gentlemanly thing to do, under the circumstances.

Something of his dilemma must have showed on his face because Bucky huffed out a laugh and bent down to kiss him. “Don't look so serious. This is s'posed to be fun.”

The new angle meant that Steve could get a bit more leverage and he started rolling his hips deeper. “Oh, this is definitely fun,” he breathed out with a groan. He pulled Bucky down for another kiss – doing three things at once was proving tricky but still possible – and managed a smile. “I can see why folks like this so much.”

Bucky pulled a face and parted his lips, ready to level another fond insult at Steve, but instead of speaking he took in a shuddering breath that was more like a gasp. “Shit, there, do that again,” he said urgently. Steve tried his best to comply and was rewarded with another gasp and a sudden clenching around his dick. “Oh shit Stevie yes, keep doing that,” Bucky moaned, and Steve committed the look on his face to memory for future artistic and self-pleasuring purposes.

He was thrusting deep and hard into Bucky now, both of them panting and sweating from the heat and exertion of it. Every time he managed to hit the right spot Bucky moaned and groaned and swore; liquid oozed out of his cock and made Steve's hand sticky. The only thought left in his mind was that he had to wait until Bucky came before he could, and that thought drove him onwards even as it made him ache for release.

Finally Bucky's eyes sprang open and his back arched; his cock pulsed as it spurted warm liquid over Steve's belly, and he clenched down hard around Steve's last few stuttering thrusts before he finally, finally let go and came inside Bucky. Steve left his head fall back onto the pillow and pulled Bucky down on top of him, letting himself relax into the afterglow.

Bucky felt nearly boneless in his arms, covered in sweat and panting hard; his eyes had closed over again and he was practically purring. Steve had never seen him looking this this before, so soft and vulnerable, and he pressed his lips to Bucky's forehead and held him tightly and just lay there for a while, breathing him in shamelessly.

Eventually it became obvious that clean-up was required, and Steve rolled Bucky over gently and slid out as carefully as he could. Bucky made a small mewl of protest when Steve stood, but his breathing was deep and slow by the time Steve returned with a warm washcloth. He cleaned Bucky, first of the dried sweat and next of the drying come. The oil proved harder to dislodge, but Steve persevered.

He slid back into bed and was about to turn the lamp off when Bucky spoke. “Mind leaving it on? I like some light at night, now.”

“You'll love this then,” Steve murmured back. He hit the switches at the same time, turning the lamp off and the star night-light on. The tiny spots of light were faintly coloured the hues of real starts, but the pattern was random rather than realistic; Steve had tried a Northern Hemisphere light for exactly one night before giving it to a charity shop grimly the next day, sleep filled with nightmares from the War.

He curled in closer to Bucky, almost wishing he was small again so that he could get really close. Bucky must have had a similar thought; he grumbled as he manhandled Steve until he was pillowed carefully on Bucky's chest, muttering about Steve being the wrong size for this. His chest was firm and warm, still flushed from their, well, the sex. It wasn't the most comfortable pillow in the world, too many hard muscles for that, but Steve still found any pillow a luxury; too many nights sleeping in the field or in tightly packed in loud transport, even now.

The thick smell of sex slowly ebbed from the room, leaving Steve breathing in Bucky's scent alone, pressed so close to him as he was. He smelled like home, and Steve abruptly found himself on the edge of tears, too many thoughts and feelings whirling around his head for him to know what to do with.

He must have tensed up, or made some small noise, because Bucky's arm tightened around him and he started gently petting Steve, grounding and soothing him. “You're thinking too hard,” Bucky murmured. It echoed through his chest against Steve's ear; the ear he could only hear through after the serum, and he pulled in tighter to Bucky at that reminder. “Always was your problem.”

“Pretty sure I had worse problems than thinking too much, Buck,” he sighed back.

“Yeah, you've always been a punk,” Bucky agreed, surprising a snort of laughter out of Steve. “Guess you're lucky I like trouble.”

“You're such a jerk.” Steve flicked Bucky's nipple, still red and swollen from his early ministrations, and Bucky yelped and grabbed his hand. Any day before now, Steve would've expected retaliation, but tonight was for grand romantic gestures, apparently; Bucky kissed his palm, and little shivers of excitement ran down Steve's entire body. He shifted position so that he could look Bucky in the eyes, dark and lovely in the dim light. He was so beautiful he took Steve's breath away and all he could do was stare.

Bucky kissed his hand again and smiled beatifically. “You're real good for a fella's ego, you know that? Staring at me like I'm one of those paintings you liked so much, letting me do all those things to you, wearing those damn stockings.”

“Always did think you were special, Bucky.” Steve looked away, suddenly shy. “Took me long enough to work it all out, though.”

“I've been yours since I met you,” Bucky replied quietly. “Never could see it, before. It's like...” He huffed, and searched for a phrase in a few different languages before his eyes lit up with triumph. “Like fish not seeing water. It just was. But I guess all that therapy was good for something, 'cos I finally saw it.”

Steve had to swallow against the lump in his throat again. “Guess it was the same for me, only without the amnesia. Although I think my ma always knew,” he added ruefully. “Some of the stuff she said makes a lot more sense now, anyway.”

“Really?” Bucky looked delighted. “Guess Ma Rogers did raise an idiot after all,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, well, your idiot now,” Steve grumbled. Bucky rolled his eyes at the line, but he was smiling and biting his lip a little while he did so, which looked like the most perfect thing in the world to Steve right now, and his heart swooped with the knowledge of how gone on him he was. They were going to be unbearable to be around, Steve realised with a grin. Everyone would hate them for his stupid cheesy lines, and Bucky's ridiculous responses, and for the happiness burning through both of them.

Eventually, Steve had to stop staring at Bucky, because he was starting to get a crick in his neck. Changing position made his forgotten suspender belt twang, and he yelped as something hit him on the ass. “Ow! Stupid thing.” He started to fight with the straps when Bucky reached over and stilled his hands.

“Let me do it.” He looked amused at Steve's predicament, but there was something in his voice that made Steve bite his lip, his cock slowly starting to fill. Bucky settled between his legs and started unclipping the belt from the stockings, taking his time rolling the silk down Steve's legs. His breath caught when he realised Steve's legs were carefully shaved. “Shit, Stevie,” he breathed. “How'd you even – did I tell you about this when I was drunk one time?”

Steve looked at him in confusion before he put together the way that Bucky was stroking his calf and the fact that Bucky was quickly hardening again. “Oh! No, can't say as you ever did. I just, uh, it didn't look right without shaving, and then, well, I kinda like it. It feels real nice.” He was blushing, he could feel it in his cheeks, but it was too dark to see even with enhanced night vision. Probably.

Bucky tipped his head back and groaned. “Oh, God, you're gonna kill me with this.” He grinned at Steve, his best come-hither smile, the one Steve had personally seen work on at least ten different women, and being on the receiving end of it was enlightening to say the least. It punched a huff of air out of him that was close to a moan, and Bucky grinned wider and started slowly pulling off the other stocking.

The silk whispered over his skin, sending every nerve ending ablaze. It was torture, pure and simple, and by the time it was completely off Steve was fully hard and his hands were flexing against the sheets. Bucky just gave him another one of those wicked grins, and picked his hips up easily, undoing the eyelets at the back of the suspender belt one-handed and throwing it off the bed.

Steve lay helpless, legs thrown over Bucky's shoulders, ass lifted off the bed. Bucky looked down at him, licking his lips absent-mindedly. “Any requests, sweetheart? Any of those ideas you were talking about?”

“Got one, sure,” Steve managed. “You, inside me.”

Bucky's right hand spasmed where it was stroking Steve's thigh. “I like the sound of that, but if you've never done this before we better go slow,” he warned. “I don't wanna hurt you.”

“I'll make sure to keep you fully appraised of my comfort levels,” Steve replied drily, finding the bottle of oil and throwing it for Bucky to catch. “I trust you, Buck. But you looked like you were having a lot of fun, earlier. Kinda want to see what all the fuss is about.”

Another slow sinful smile, this time combined with a slicked-up finger teasing Steve's rim. “Wouldn't want you to miss out on anything.” The sensation was strange at first, but Steve quickly started to enjoy it, and when the tip of Bucky's finger slid inside him he sighed in pleasure. “You good so far?”

“Better than good,” Steve said with a smile. Bucky's finger started moving in and out, getting deeper and deeper every time, and Steve found himself wanting more and more. It wasn't enough; he couldn't move into the thrusts, he didn't have any leverage to move properly, and Bucky's pace was maddeningly slow. “Buck, please, you gotta – I need more,” Steve pleaded, all pretence at calm well and truly lost.

Bucky looked almost as wrecked as Steve felt. “Jesus fuck, Stevie, you really like this, huh? Don't worry, I ain't gonna leave you hanging.” Another finger pushed inside Steve; it stung for a moment and then the pain was gone as Steve relaxed into it. Bucky frowned a little in concentration as he continued gently opening Steve up, and he was definitely getting into this now, hips twitching into each careful thrust and dick aching to be touched.

And then his whole body turned into a livewire and he cried out, wordless and mindless, as Bucky found his prostate. The tiny part of him that could still think coherent thoughts knew that Bucky was grinning fiercely as he grazed his fingers over it again and again, but most of Steve was pure sensation and nothing more; he could barely breathe for gasping so hard, and the moans and gasps he was making sounded like something from on of the dirty films he'd been unable to watch.

Each pass of Bucky's fingers made his dick twitch and his balls ache, and he was caught between too-much and not-enough; he couldn't even form words any more, but he managed to focus on Bucky and tried very hard to convey what he wanted.

“Ah, fuck, Stevie, look at you,” Bucky whispered, his own voice rough. “I got you.” He eased Steve down onto the bed fully again, his hand never stopping its terrible, wonderful movements, and his metal hand stroked Steve's rigid erection precisely twice before Steve came so hard he thought he might explode with it, crying out louder than he ever had before. Warmth spattered on his chest and a drop or two fell on his lips; waves of pleasure rolled through his body, and by the time it finished his muscles were twitching randomly and he was giggling like a drunk.

“Holy hell,” Bucky said reverently, somewhere above Steve. “You okay there Stevie? Still alive?”

“Jus' abou',” Steve slurred. Bucky started to pull his fingers out and Steve clamped down with a scowl. “Nnnn! More stretching. Then your dick. Please, Bucky.”

“Oh, well, seeing as how you said please,” Bucky said, and Steve's eyes were still not really working but he could hear amusement and desire in his voice. Bucky bent over him and licked the come off his lips before kissing him deeply. “Only because you were so polite, though.”

Steve snorted. “Fuck you, Bucky. Hurry up and fuck me.” Bucky gave a comically shocked gasp, but he added another finger and started scissoring his fingers in earnest, and Steve moaned as his nerves sparked off seemingly at random, dick twitching and drooling more come.

Watching Bucky had always been one of his favourite things – he had always been a graceful man, moved more like a dancer than a dock-worker, and the lines of his body were clean and long. Now, though, he was beautiful. The muscles in his right arm caught the light when they moved in and out of Steve; his lips glistened where he had been licking and biting them, and his eyes were hooded and hungry.

Love. That was what Steve had been seeing and feeling all night. He was being held by one of the three people in the world, and it was only three because Thor was currently on Earth, who was genuinely his equal in strength and stamina; and it was wonderful. Steve had never felt freer or safer.

He made another involuntary mewling noise when Bucky pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the towel. “You ready? We can stop any time you like,” he asked softly, moving into position between Steve's thighs.

“I'm good. Same goes for you. Wouldn't want to be too much for you.” Steve tried to hide his concern behind snark, but the softness of his voice gave him away. Bucky just kissed him in response, rolling his eyes, and lined himself up with Steve's hole before starting to push in gently.

The blunt pressure at his rim gave way to searing heat for a moment until his body adjusted to the invasion. Bucky raised an eyebrow and Steve nodded slightly in response; he was good, this was good. Not quite the lightning strike of before, but it felt good to be full, to have Bucky, warm and hard and soft as silk, deep inside him. Bucky continued sliding forward until he was fully sheathed. He leant forward until his forehead was resting on Steve's, breathing deeply.

“You can move, Buck, I'm not gonna shatter,” Steve said, amused. He wound his legs around Bucky's lower back and squeezed gently.

Bucky groaned and scowled at him. “I'm doing this for your benefit, punk, if you want this to last for more than two seconds you need to give me a minute,” he snapped. Steve huffed and rolled his eyes, but really he was delighted at this demonstration of how much Bucky wanted this. Him. It was still pretty unbelievable. Part of Steve was always tiny, underfed and chronically ill, regularly on the verge of dying; that part still couldn't understand that anyone would find him attractive, let alone the sculpted and near-flawless form of his best friend.

Bucky nuzzled at him before capturing his mouth in a long and tender kiss. “Thinkin' too hard again, Stevie.”

“Better do something about that, Buck,” Steve shot back, and Bucky finally, finally started rolling his hips.

Small movements at first, gradually becoming deeper and longer, and Steve was starting to feel it now, his cock well and truly back in the game. The come on his chest still hadn't fully dried, but the pressure in his balls started ramping up again, and he started moving his hips into Bucky's thrusts. “This is good, I was right,” he smirked.

“Just good, huh? Let me see what I can do.” Bucky winked at him and shifted position slightly, speeding up a little, and he was almost in exactly the right spot but not quite – Steve moved his legs higher and locked them tighter, and that was it exactly, and now Steve was holding on for dear life and moaning with every thrust.

Above him, Bucky's eyes were huge and dark; his hair was falling into his face, and Steve swept it back while he pulled him down for a sloppy, breathless kiss. His dick was trapped between their bodies, and the slow grind against it was pushing him inexorably towards orgasm. Bucky was thrusting deeper and stronger, every long stroke hitting Steve's prostate, and he was almost helpless with the pleasure of it all.

When it finally hit his orgasm with almost painful this time, sweeping over him and making his vision short out and his muscles contract and spasm around Bucky, who moaned in turn and sped up frantically, murmuring his name and kissing whatever part of Steve he could find. It didn't seem to stop; Steve's dick kept twitching and releasing little spurts of come as he came over and over and over until he thought he might die of it.

Bucky groaned Steve's name one last time, hips jerking hard as he came. Steve could feel it, hot and deep inside him; it was a strange sensation, but one he would happily have again, as often as Bucky wanted.

They lay where they were for a while, panting and slowly winding down. Steve could barely think, and he was pretty sure Bucky was in the same boat. Eventually, Bucky slid out of Steve, which was another weird sensation all of its own, and Steve shivered and scrabbled for the towel as the come and oil began their slow dribble out of him.

“I got you,” Bucky whispered. He disappeared for a moment and came back with the cloth, warm and wet, and cleaned Steve up slowly and gently. “Was it good?” He looked up at Steve, shy and almost boyish in his vulnerability.

“You were amazing. We were amazing.” Steve's voice was rough and he struggled to dins a bottle of water from his stash under the bed. “Definitely want to do that again.”

Bucky smiled at him. “Not right now though, right?” He yawned hugely. “I want some sleep before we get to round four.”

Steve was pretty wiped out himself. “After pancakes and coffee, sure. I'll make 'em.”

Bucky crawled back up next to him and finished the clean-up of their chests, and Steve's neck, which had apparently been splashed without him noticing at some point. He gave Steve a hopeful pout. “Not waffles?”

“Waffles it is. Anything for you.” Steve pulled Bucky in next to him and squirmed around until he found the best position in his arms.

“With bacon and blueberries and maple syrup?” Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve's forehead, smoothing the hair away and wiping off the lingering sweat.

“I'll even dust them with icing sugar. In a love heart.” Steve found Bucky's left hand and held it tightly.

“And chocolate sprinkles?” Bucky sounded half-asleep now.

“Now you're pushing it,” Steve warned. Bucky sniggered, gave him a last kiss, and fell asleep in the abrupt and absolute way he had always done when he was safe and relaxed.

Unlike his Disney Princess costume and reputation suggested, Steve was well aware that there were no such things as happy endings. But this was as close to perfection as he could imagine, and he would gladly take it.

He fell asleep in Bucky's embrace, and dreamed of rounds four through infinity, and was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go! I hope you all like it. This took me an embarrassingly long time to write, because I was ill and on holiday and jetlagged, but II hope the end result is both worth it and coherent. Please let me know if you see anything that needs editing, or if you have any other feedback or comments. You can also find me on Tumblr at [knittedgauntlets](https://knittedgauntlets.tumblr.com/) because some other David Brin fan got my damn handle first.
> 
> If you haven't you should totally check out Chiyume's stuff here on AO3 and her art on Tumblr, links on the first chapter, because she is much better at porn and making art than me.


End file.
